Bicentennial
by Cgaume12
Summary: On Spyro's whim, a tradition of holding an open tournament was established. Today marks but the second to begin, and in the end only one may stand. Spyro was the first to conquer his own tournament; who will follow?
1. Chapter 1: Inception

**Inception**

**After about four weeks, I've finally completed this first chapter. However, it is simply an introduction. I feel it's as good as it's going to become, and it is complete. I'm trying something abnormal for me with this, and so these chapters may very well all takes several weeks to complete in a satisfactory way. I hope that you find enjoyment in my work. (Otherwise, I may as well just keep it for myself.)**

**All reviews and feedback appreciated. (Yes, even the pointlessly positive/negative ones.)**

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><p>It is quiet here.<p>

The noise of the crowd is distant now. But only for the moment.

Soon it will fill my ears again, however. It always gives me a rush, as though their cheers supply my will to go on, whether it is for me or my opposition. It's a wonderful feeling of adrenaline.

I don't know if I could win without them.

No, I could. I wouldn't have been talked into this if I thought I would just be injured for no reason.

This has been great to be a part of. Maybe, in fifty years, I'll come back to watch the next one. Or maybe I'll be dead. It doesn't really matter.

I'm still here. I've done better than fourteen others, so I must deserve to be here. I'd hope. Though, it could have just been luck. If so, I guess I'm about to find out.

They're at the door now. Looks like it's time for my last fight, win or lose. I can't wait.

[}[]{]

"Welcome, one and all, to the naming ceremony! Those standing here have proven their mettle simply by signing up for this competition. Of the twenty who put forth interest, these sixteen have been selected."

Faer glanced back. From here, in front of the temporary stage, she could see the edge of the giant cone poised at its front, but not the dragon giving the announcement. But she already knew what he had to say. She would be participating. The crowd ahead of her fell silent. Their attention was on them, on her.

"As many of you should know, today we come simply to acknowledge each participant, and to lay down the rules in public. And so, I will humbly turn this over to our sponsor, and the source of this tournament, Spyro."

"Um, yes, thank you. I would like to say a few words before acknowledging our participants. In these past fifty-three years, we have been fortunate to avoid conflict. We have not had any sort of major war. However, this world is not perfect," Spyro paused, gazing silently over the crowd, "Fifty years ago, I suggested this- a tournament aimed at preserving our ability to fight. Of course, it's also for the enjoyment of everyone involved. In this, our second tournament, I will not be participating. For those who are, I offer you my gratitude. Now, I give you the contestants!"

The crowd broke into cheers. Some called the names of those they knew, either in support or in jest. Among them, however, Faer didn't hear her name. Not any different from her expectation, all the important people she associated with were in the tournament.

"Please step forward as you're called," Spyro started, "First, in no particular order, Sol."

Faer looked up and down the line. For a moment, nobody moved. But then, at the end of the line, a dark-hued, orange dragon stepped forward. He held his head high, and seemed to be making eye contact with someone in the crowd, by the way it was turned. He stopped two paces out.

"Second, Proletariat."

Faer turned her eyes on Proletariat, who stood about four down from her. She met his eyes, and he smiled. She'd wondered at his coloration ever since she first met him. He always told her that his being brown wasn't quite as bad as the gold-leaf her father called scales. She thought otherwise, but wouldn't refute it in front of him. He too stepped forward, turning his head to look at and acknowledge Sol politely.

"Third, Bayne."

Faer grinned and immediately turned to her left. Sighing, Bayne stepped forward. But Faer knew better. He had been defensive at Raymond's suggestion of entering the tournament, and this was still just a show. Bayne had been purely ecstatic the night before. He couldn't even lay down without shifting back and forth, over and over. She should know; she'd been beside him all night, almost as excited, but much less expressive about it.

"You'll be fine," she whispered, "No one here could ever beat you!"

She could imagine him rolling his eyes, though he didn't turn back to do it in her direction. It was what he always did when she tried to complement him, whether she joked about it or not.

"Fourth, Ryoth."

The dragon immediately to her right stepped forward.

"Fifth, Faer."

Her turn, finally! She couldn't help but grin as she stepped forward, and took her place close to Bayne.

To her right, Ryoth muttered, "Stupid females in a male's competition..."

With a short gasp, she looked at him.

"Yes, you. You and any others, as I'm sure there are more. If you're trying to be male, you're going about it wrong," he sneered.

Faer began to retort, but stopped when Bayne put his tail onto her side.

"If you would, leave my mate alone," Bayne mused, "You're here for a fight, but you're not getting one until this starts."

Ryoth turned away, laughing. "No wonder she's entered, with such a pussy for a mate."

Fear growled and lashed her tail. He was not getting away with insulting both of them. But, Bayne was right. The fighting would have to wait.

"Sixth, Erd," Spyro's voice rang out, pulling Faer's attention away from Ryoth and toward the next dragon.

He stood off to her left, on shaky feet. He certainly looked afraid, and out of place. Only his red scales kept his face from outwardly betraying his embarrassment.

She tried to catch his eye, to give him some sort of friendly encouragement, but his attention was on his feet. He wouldn't look at the crowd.

"Seventh, ah..." Spyro paused, "Il'saar."

The dragon strode forward, giving a brief glance to his right and left. From the look of him, Faer wouldn't be surprised if he was sizing up the competition, and thinking them all worthless. Even with six others between them, Faer could practically hear the sharpness of his claws against the street. With a front riddled with scars, he was an intimidating sight.

Of course, she'd met others with deceiving appearances.

"Eighth, Rayde."

Speak of the devil, there came one now.

This dragoness was the best friend Faer had, and as she would expect, Faer found Rayde to be smiling as she came up. No doubt she'd been being encouraged by Raymond; but she didn't need it. It would have been for his benefit.

Rayde could be...different sometimes. Nothing could be expected from her, because it would easily be subverted. Whether it was just her, or something else, Faer was unsure. But no matter what happened, Faer couldn't help but have a high opinion of Rayde. If only Bayne was as consistent.

Rayde had suggested their entering this tournament in the first place. She thought it would be fun. Faer hoped she was right.

"Ninth, Maul."

The dragon on the opposite end from Sol stepped carefully forward. He placed his feet with a strong sureness, and nodded in a wide arc when he stopped. He looked her direction, and caught her eye. He smiled, until Bayne stuck his head out in front of her.

Faer chuckled, and lay her tail onto Bayne's. "He couldn't get me away from you if he and you wanted me to go."

"I want no one getting any ideas," Bayne growled softly, "About either of us!"

"It's doubtful-"

"Tenth, Bourgeoisie," Spyro called.

Bayne and Faer both turned their heads.

"There's your dad," Bayne whispered.

"Yes," Faer laughed, "I know who he is."

It had been surprising to find out that her parents were going to participate, but it did no good to worry about them. If she did, how much more should they be worried about her?

And, well, her father certainly looked like he could put up a fight. He was the biggest dragon in the competition.

"Eleventh, Staub."

To her right, the dragon on Ryoth's other side went up. His head was held high. And yet, something about him stood out. His mouth was definitely moving, though whatever he was saying she could not hear. It looked like he was repeating something, over and over.

"Odd," Faer muttered.

"What's that?" Bayne asked her.

"Him over there. Staub, I think Spyro said."

"What about him? Oh, he's mouthing something. Is that it?"

"Yes," she responded, "That's a bit odd."

"Or he could have a mantra, or a shopping list." Bayne laughed. "It shouldn't matter to us."

"Sure, whatever you say..."

"Twelfth, Gin."

Faer glanced back and forth, but no one seemed to move along the line.

And then, between Rayde's partitioned front legs, Faer saw a small spot of blue scales. She watch Rayde turn her head, and caught a glimpse of the dragon's head, topping out just above Rayde's shoulder.

"Ha, Bayne, you're not the smallest of us," she remarked.

Bayne grumbled incoherently, turn his face toward the ground.

"Thirteenth, Raymond."

Here he was, finally. Now all four of them were in front- herself, and the three she felt most close to. Raymond was Rayde's mate, but he knew Faer enough that he could easily have been her own. Well, maybe if he wasn't her...half-uncle.

Faer laughed aloud. It was hard to think of him that way but, yet, he was.

"Fourteenth, Tor'keth," Spyro said confidently.

To no surprise, another dragon who looked somewhat battle-worn came forward. Faer remembered seeing both of their names together on the lists posted around the city. Tor'keth. Il'saar. However, of the two of them, Tor'keth looked more friendly. At least his scowl was light-hearted, as much as one could be, anyway. He also looked to be younger, though she couldn't really tell for sure.

"Fifteenth, Kaja."

If there was any sort of order to this, she hoped that being at the end was not a bad thing. She didn't want her mother being put down from the start.

Whether the crowd knew it or not, she was probably the smartest one out there. Her mother had spent years training to learn about medicine. She deserved respect, especially after taking on so much despite her own problems.

And yet, Faer didn't really have any sort of major aspiration like her mother had once had. She didn't want all that. If there was anything she envied, it was that bright blue chest. It looked so much better than her own plain yellow. But Bayne didn't seem to understand. Whenever she brought it up, he could only say that she was 'perfect the way she was.'

"Sixteenth, Agalia."

Last of all, her aunt, Agalia.

It was odd. This member of her family, she hardly knew. Growing up, Agalia had been there all the time. She and Proletariat were around whenever her parents needed them to be, especially Agalia. But now, this was the first Faer had seen of her in nearly four years.

Proletariat would come to visit; Agalia would be sick.

Plans were made to get family and friends together; Agalia would be busy.

They went to visit them; Agalia acted cold and silent, nothing like how she had always been.

Perhaps, somehow, this tournament would tie them together again. Yet, even now, Agalia stared straight forward. Surely she was evading the eyes of those around her, no matter how much they looked at her.

"Again, a sincere thank you to all this year's participants. To close for today, I will state clearly the rules surrounding this tournament. First, there will be no killing blows. This is not a life or death competition. Any attempts, successful or failed, on another's life will result...in immediate execution." Spyro stared out across the line of dragons in front of him, most of whom now faced him. "Second, the match-ups in this tournament will be completely at random; those participating will not know who their opponent is until the moment the step out to begin. Third, in regards to the previous rule, only those competitors who have completed their fight for the day will be allowed to watch. Aside from this, all tactics and styles are allowed. There will be no disqualifications while these three simple rules are upheld. With that, we will begin tomorrow at the arena outside the city, that has stood undisturbed for fifty years. Thank you."

[][][]

Sol. Il'saar. Bourgeoisie. Kaja. Agalia. Proletariat. Staub. Ryoth. Faer. Bayne. Raymond. Rayde. Gin. Erd. Tor'keth. Maul.

After ten days, only one can remain.


	2. Chapter 2: Infinitesimal

**Infinitesimal**

**Finally finished this one. Took...a while.**

**I hope you enjoy it.**

**Any and all feedback is appreciated.**

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><p>Why would they choose a system like this? It made each moment more wearing on his nerves than the last!<p>

Not only that, but they had to be separate, and remain separate until they'd fought. He hoped his chance wouldn't be put off long. He didn't want to miss too much.

What if Faer was hurt, right now? She wasn't a fighter. She could easily die in this.

Yes, there were rules. But what dragon wouldn't be fighting with the intent to kill? He knew he would, or he'd stand no chance at all.

Yet, he could think of at least one who wouldn't fight that way. Rayde stood as much of a chance of killing her opponents as he did of...even winning.

Faer might die.

Or he might.

He might die.

[][][]

Bayne sat hard onto the bench in the center of the room. He glanced around for perhaps the sixth time, and nothing had changed. Gray walls, gray ceiling, the cold, stone bench he sat on, and the numerous sets of weights and equipment he hadn't touched.

Did they design these rooms to bore participants?

A nicer room would probably have made this easier. The gloom had surely made it easier to consider the worst case scenarios. Yet, now, he knew that Faer couldn't possibly die in this. Spyro would never allow it. Bayne himself, maybe, but not Faer. Not his granddaughter.

Bayne considered the equipment, but it again held no interest for him. He'd be too shaky to even try it. Surely, he would end up snapping a claw in half, or tearing a hole in one- no, both of his wings. How would he fight then? Or, perhaps, he would pull a muscle or two, or all of them with his luck.

Bayne growled, and shook his head violently. This negativity would only hurt his chances of winning. He needed to get psyched up. He could win.

He'd never truly fought before, but he had been trained. Maybe he would get lucky. To fight Rayde, Agalia, or even Kaja would probably be easy. If he fought the sexist bastard, he'd be lucky if he didn't break the one rule that guided this tournament. He knew that was one match-up he stood zero chance of losing.

And yet, any of the other eleven and he may as well forfeit. They were all larger than him, stronger than him, and surely more experienced.

Bayne's eyes snapped toward the door. It clicked slowly open, a sound caused by the small piece of metal attacked to the bottom of the door running over ridges carved into the floor.

A young dragon, one who couldn't have been more than ten years, stuck his head in the door. "Mister, um, Bayne?"

He nodded curtly.

"We're...they're ready for you. Now."

Bayne stood quickly. "Already?"

"Yes. It's the first match."

Bayne closed his eyes. "Thank you...I'm ready."

[][][]

As the words of the announcer faded into silence, the wood separating Bayne from the arena slid upward. It took only seconds before it reached his eyes and he could see out. At his escort's urging, he stepped out into the dim sunlight, and looked upon his opponent. And he smiled.

Before him stood the only dragon he hadn't considered for being his opponent. The same one Faer had mentioned several times that was even smaller than him. If size was going to be his advantage, he'd need a way to capitalize on it.

They each stopped, after approaching the center, about fifteen feet apart. The dragon made eye contact with him and it seemed, for a moment, that Bayne could have reached into the dragon's eyes and grabbed hold of his own paw within. With their yellow-white tinge, Bayne wasn't sure if they were diseased or not.

The dragon greeted him, "Best of luck, Bayne. I look forward to this."

"Thank you. I wish you luck as well," he paused, "Gin?"

Gin nodded. "Glad you remember." He grinned at him. "An opponent should always know the name of the one who defeats him."

Bayne smiled back. "I'm hardly the best competition for you. Even my mate would probably put up a better fight." He chuckled to himself, only hoping that Gin would not find it provoking.

"And thus concludes our pleasantries. Shall we begin?"

Bayne watched as Gin dropped into a low crouch, waiting for him to be prepared. It was then, of course, that Bayne realized why the crowd far above his head had been silent. By all accounts, the fight had started as soon as they entered the door. Had this completely escaped him and he'd been attacked right off, it might have ended before it began.

Bayne confidently planted his back feet, and brought his head close to the ground. He breathed in. He needed to be calm, and wait. Bayne blinked, and when he opened his eyes, Gin was within five feet of him.

He sprang forward, and hit Gin head-on with his chest. It knocked the breath out of him, as Gin still pushed forward and sent Bayne back.

Wonderful. Sprawled on his back, with Gin still bearing down on him. Bayne knew he was at a disadvantage: he wouldn't be able to to avoid him completely, and he could hardly fight back in this position.

Quickly, he rocked forward and tucked in his head and forelegs. He listened. When Gin seemed close enough, Bayne swung his tail upward, hoping to lad a blow on his neck or chin. It was pinned down before it could leave the ground.

Bayne knew that a hard blow was coming next- and he thought of how he might avoid it.

He uncurled, throwing his back against the ground and leaving Gin to swipe his claws through empty space. As soon as his body would allow him, Bayne kicked his back legs upward, knocking Gin to the side while he was still off balance.

Bayne rolled away from Gin, and carefully drew up into a defensive position facing him. He rapidly surveyed the arena as a whole. No rocks or natural bumps marred the ground. He would assume that, when they built this stadium, they brought the dirt in that made up the floor. But he didn't have time for speculation.

Bayne focused his attention on Gin. Surprisingly, he was standing again, and gazing at Bayne with a fiery intensity. He could see that, this time, Gin wasn't going to make the first move. So, he reasoned, why wait?

Bayne fell into a position to run. He had to act quickly, as Gin would surely prepare to intercept him- and that little dragon was strong, stronger than he.

Both sets of his legs hunched, and he lowered his head just so, as to protect his eyes. Then, Bayne sent a ripple of electricity through his muscles. He could feel the tendrils touch every nerve. Even now, after so many years taking advantage of it, it felt odd within his body. He wondered, for a moment, if he could be damaging himself with it.

He shook the thought from his head. Now wasn't the time. All he needed to know about it was that it let him move and react faster. That's what he needed. The slight field of electricity that connected him to the ground was a side-effect, but even if it served no purpose it looked cool.

In moments, Bayne had launched forward and covered nearly all of the distance between them. Bayne lowered his head farther, aiming his horns for both of Gin's shoulders. And still, Gin made no move.

They bit through scale, and sank deep into flesh. And, to his surprise, he didn't stop until the top of his head was resting against Gin's chest. Blood welled up from the wounds, and ran in small trickles down Bayne's horns.

"As expected," Gin affirmed.

Bayne moved to respond, but was cut short as Gin spat a spray of icy needles into the center of his back. He convulsed and fell limp, with his horns holding him up, and tearing a deeper gash into Gin's shoulders.

Carefully and respectfully, Gin stepped back, allowing Bayne's horn to slip out. Gin looked around until his eyes met with the announcer's.

"I feel we're done," he called out into the silence of the arena, "He won't be getting up on his own."

The announcer looked to Spyro, who gave a slight nod before jumping down into the arena. He strode over to Bayne, then toward Gin. He smiled at him, and shouted, "The first match's victor is Gin!"

For the first time since they'd stepped out, the crowd began to cheer.

[][][]

"Bayne...Bayne!" He knew this voice. "It's done. They've already heal you...us." Gin.

Bayne convulsed, and his eyes snapped open.

He groaned softly and began to pull himself upright. "What was that?"

"It's over," Gin replied, "They're waiting for us before they start the next match."

"I...you won?"

Gin nodded. "If you hadn't given me so much time to prepare, it would have lasted longer."

"You acted like that didn't even hurt," Bayne laughed.

"Oh, it did. But I knew it would be worth it. Why else would I have moved to make you go so far in? You just...left yourself so open."

Bayne shook his head, mumbling, "Masochist." Then, louder he asked, "They are waiting for us?"

"Since you weren't very hurt, they felt you'd wake up soon. Come on, there's a section set aside for us." Gin turned, and Bayne took the moment to look around. They were definitely beneath the stadium. He was laid out in an alcove off of the hall that led down to the room he had been in earlier. Since Gin had headed up, they were probably expected to go into the stands.

Bayne pushed up onto his feet, and walked up beside Gin. "What exactly, ah, did you do to me?"

"Oh, just, pierced some nerves in your spine."

"Y-you what?"

"They healed you. It was the fastest way to end it, especially in that situation. I couldn't let you pull out, I'd have probably bled out in a few minutes of trying to defend myself, or fight back."

"It felt like I was dying," he admitted, "I could, for a little while, still hear. But I couldn't feel a thing, or move at all. How long was I out for?"

"Only about ten minutes."

Bayne nodded. "Good." They reached the doors at the top, and Bayne stepped forward, opening them for Gin. "After you, victor."

Bayne followed closely behind him, blinking in the brighter light.

On seeing Gin, members of the crowd began to shout and cheer, and it redoubled once Bayne came through.

Those on either side of them, the ones he could understand the words of, called out the positives and negatives.

"Great job!"

"Pitiful!"

"Welcome back!"

"Nicely done, just standing around!"

"Get out! Loser!"

He shrugged it off. Why should he care? He lost. He was done. But he'd get to watch every other match. Maybe, surely, he could help Faer a bit by learning about her competition in the later rounds- well, if she made it.

Then, the announcer began to talk into the great cone that rested at the front of his platform. "Our next fight will begin in only a few moments. Our next two combatants are...from the north door of the arena, Rayde! And from the south door...Ryoth!"

Bayne grinned. Faer had taken a few minutes to point out Ryoth to Rayde and Raymond, and tell them about their experiences with him. Rayde...well, he had no faith in her winning, but he sure hoped she would. And, perhaps, tear that bastard a new one.

Bayne snickered aloud, and, whether he meant to or not, sat about two feet from Gin on their bench. As expected, they'd given them the whole front row.


	3. Chapter 3: Inversion

**Inversion**

**This thing here is finally done. I'm considering skimming over some less important fights in this first round, since they seem to take a month to write and there are 8 total. Opinions?**

**All feedback is appreciated.**

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><p>Knowing where Rayde would emerge, Bayne politely excused himself from Gin and slipped around the rim of the arena. He sat as close to the doorway as he could, while still being able to see down into the arena and to the door.<p>

The inner door began to lift.

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Rayde stared out for a moment, out into the lit. Light much brighter than that of where she stood. She herself was no, had no light. But there was light, and dark. She'd experienced both. But she wasn't either. She didn't need to be. She didn't want to be. It had no purpose, none.

Rayde strode into the light. The first thing to strike her was the murmur of the crowd. It wreathed around her like the collective hum of a swarm of insects. But nothing about it was distinct: male and female; shouts, cries and whispers all tangled in a throbbing mass of sound in her head. Yet, as she walked forward, it seemed as though she could hear her name in among it all.

She turned her head, searching for the source, and met Bayne's eyes.

With a little focus, she heard him call out, "...that bastard from yesterday!" Her opponent. Bayne paused, then continued, realizing she couldn't respond, "Tear him a new one, for both me and Faer!"

She nodded to him, then faced forward.

Ryoth approached. As Rayde expected, he was not a friendly face. If she didn't know better, she may have assumed that, perhaps, his day had gotten off to a bad start. He wasn't. The scowl she wore was meant for her, only for her.

She smiled in return, and surreptitiously began gather the energy with which to strike out at a moment's notice.

"Good luck," she spoke, loud enough that he could her over the crowd.

"Thanks," he retorted, "But you'll be the one needing it. Ready?"

She hummed, and nodded slightly. She could tell already how simple this would be. He would be the darkness. She'd break him.

Following her confirmation, Ryoth bent into a defensive position. The look in his eyes changed. They seemed to be truly looking at her now, like an opponent, not something that didn't belong in the arena.

"Subvert expectations," she whispered, "As good a place to start as any."

Rayde remained upright, quietly thinking through what she was going to do. It seemed like it would work, and, as soon as he began to move, she knew it would. And yet, he was smarter than she thought.

His first blow was aimed perfectly. He struck just below her right shoulder, wrenching his claws through the thin scales there and immediately drawing blood. Following up, he planted the same bloodied claws, and thrust the flat of his paw against her left shoulder. She fell backward, limp with pain, and he lunged after her, landing on top.

Rayde struggled beneath him, but stopped quickly, holding her breath as he again pushed his claws into her wound. Though, he thought that would be enough?

"You don't belong here," he growled, shoving his claws in deeper, and eliciting a whimper from Rayde, "Forfeit."

Rayde forced a smile. "Good luck."

From her mouth, she shot a small burst of the earth energy she'd been building, and struck him in the neck. His head snapped backward sharply, and Rayde took the opportunity to coil her tail about his left, hind leg and whipped it outward. He tumbled off of her, and she rolled into an upright position. Ryoth recovered more slowly than she had.

He exuded a primal rage.

He'd be stupid about it, now, another head-on attack, surely.

He came at her low. His head held down, and nostrils flaring. She waited until he wouldn't be able to stop himself, and reared up.

Rayde breathed in. In her mind, what felt like several minutes passed: as she pushed the energy into her forearms, as she felt it rush into them, as her shoulder trickled blood down her right flank, as she watched him dig in his claws to try and slow down. But he couldn't. He was where she wanted him.

She breathed out, and condensed the energy in her limbs. Hard as stone, she brought them down upon bottom joint of his neck, stopping all momentum he had. Rayde released the energy, as to reuse it, and hopped backward. He groaned at her as she slid her head beneath his chest, and bucked him onto his back.

She stood over him, to wait until he was completely conscious.

"Done?" she asked.

Ryoth's head lolled to one side in his stupor, and his eyes opened to look at her. "Fuck no."

Rayde nodded. She shouldn't have given him any time to recover. She already knew what he was.

She stepped up to incapacitate him, and was struck square in the nose by a bolt of electricity. Her head rolled back, then came forward to look at him again. She put one paw firmly onto his chest and used the other too stretch out his right front leg.

"For all your attitude, you're pitiful," Rayde mused casually. She waited for his mouth to open in response, and pushed a spike of earth out of her paw. For her it was a satisfying crunch as it tore through flesh and cracked bone; blood flowed from the top and bottom. The spike wouldn't last very long, since a lot of the energy she'd bothered to build up had been used up, and she wouldn't be supplying it with more.

Whatever words Ryoth had been forming were lost in the hellish shriek that cut through the air. She lifted her paw from his chest as he began to struggle, succeeding in tearing a larger hole in his arm. Rayde jumped atop the thrashing dragon, and pinned his body down with hers. With one paw, she held his neck down.

"You take much less punishment than my mate. I'd feel sympathy for you, but threats ruined that. Please give up."

"Hah, I'm not stupid. That s-spike won't last forever. Then I'll...I'll get you done! I'm stronger than you."

Rayde wrapped her teeth around his neck, and violently twisted the the right, until it popped and Ryoth fell limp. She pulled back, her teeth bloodied and jaws throbbing. It felt good to do that again, and this time for the sake of someone other than herself.

All around her, cries of disgust struck from the crowd. Did they think she killed him? That would have been stupid. He wasn't worth that. He needed to learn, not be killed. She stood, turned and met Spyro's eyes, and he hopped down into the arena.

Spyro approached her, wearing a disturbed look that Rayde hadn't often seen from him. But still, she had seen it before.

"He did something?"

She nodded.

"This bad?"

"Could have been."

"Very well." He turned away from Rayde, and made his way over to examine Ryoth. He nodded an affirmative and called out, "Ryoth is incapacitated; Rayde has won!"

[][][]

Rayde reached the doorway, and once again glanced back at Ryoth. He hadn't met her eyes, or said anything in response since he had become conscious again. Had he learned? If not, they might have to deal with him again in the future. Bayne or Faer might need to.

She snapped her head forward. Those thoughts would not be allowed to persist. She pushed the door open, once again blinking in the changed light. She squinted, and quickly spotted Bayne. With yet another glance in Ryoth's direction, she stepped between the crowd. They might have been yelling at her, or at Ryoth, or at each other. But what did it matter to her?

Bayne looked ecstatic. She'd done right in at least his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4: Ideology

**Ideology**

**Here we go, once again. I hope that you enjoy this as you read. I decided to, hopefully, pick the pace up by cutting the fight apart, and allowing some things to happen without writing them. If it is not a successful strategy for those who read this rather than write it, please let me know.**

**All feedback is appreciated, as always.**

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><p>Bayne stood when he heard the crowd behind him turn their attention on Rayde and Ryoth. Bayne turned and went to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. Right behind her was Ryoth, who, without as much as a look in Bayne's direction, slipped off to the opposite side of the arena as soon as he was given space.<p>

Rayde came down, stopping just ahead of Bayne. She asked, "Which way?"

Bayne opened his mouth, and glanced between Gin and the doorway. His mouth closed, and he gestured with his head toward Gin.

[][][]

My...excitement has left me. The meal last night, the ceremony preceding it, they got me to such a high. Then they ate up all my energy. On top of that, despite the accommodations, I hardly slept last night. Maybe I should have tried to sleep while I waited.

Too late now, I suppose. Adrenaline, that would do it. Once I really get moving out there, I'll be as alert as ever.

And it's not as though I'm not confident in my abilities. If I was cocky, even, so be it. It can't hurt my chances much.

For now, though, I need to do what I can to not fall asleep in these dark tunnels. Why don't they have any lighting? Even a little would help. At the moment, I can hardly tell that I'm still following this young dragon. It's laughable. Compared to myself and the other full-grown dragons I might be engaging in only a few moments, this young dragon may as well have just hatched.

Ahead, maybe five feet above eye-level, light shone through a crack. In its light, the dragon ahead of me stopped, and stepped aside. "We're here, sir," he said. I could see the effort he put into pulling his mouth into a smile.

"Thanks." Confident, I will be.

[][][]

"Fuck him up, Raymond!" Bayne screamed into the arena.

Rayde looked at him sideways. Raymond had only just walked into the arena, and Bayne was already yelling. And with no purpose, all that would do is distract him. Rayde stared forward again.

Raymond stood in the center, crouching across from his opponent, a dragon announced to be Maul. They were speaking, most likely in a more friendly way than she and Ryoth had.

"Do…what you can," she whispered, "You don't need to do more than that."

Immediately to her right, Gin, whom Bayne had reintroduced to her, asked, "No high expectations? He's your mate, isn't he?"

"No expectations, and he's that and more."

"More; how's that?"

"It's…I don't think I should really talk about it."

"Are you sure?" he prodded, "There's, well, I promise that I won't hold any of it against either of you."

"But why do you even want to know?"

Gin's eyes squeezed shut, and a soft smile crept across his face. "Simple. I think we had a nice conversation yesterday. Yet, you're still so unreadable, a mystery."

"Our situation isn't a problem to be solved."

"No, no of course not, Rayde. But come on; give me something before this match gets going. Like…" his smile widened, "I don't see the need for the 'flourish' with which you beat Ryoth. Explain that."

"He was an obstruction. He made problems for those I care about."

"Uhm, okay. Why do it in the way you did, though?"

"Gin, have you killed someone?"

[][][]

Raymond snarled determinedly, and lifted his body again to slam his opponent's head down. The teeth were driven further into his shoulder, and still Maul refused to release it. Blood flowed from within his lips.

As he had before, Maul attempted to toss his head about, but only caused minimal damage on top of what had already been done.

A gash on Maul's back-right hip from Raymond's claws; a minute stab wound from the sharp tip of Raymond's tail low down on his body.

On Raymond, Maul had already struck one serious blow. A long, straight cut ran from above Raymond's right eye to the left side of his neck. It had surely been meant to strike the eyes- to end the match quickly and in the worst way possible. It wasn't a sure thing the his eyes could be completely healed, but Maul would win so long as he lived through it.

And now it seemed that Maul was putting forth all his effort to disable him. Maul clamped down his jaws even harder and Raymond roared in pained rage.

[][][]

Bayne still continued to yell. So close to her that she could hardly hear her own thoughts, Rayde finally lifted a paw and placed it on his shoulder. He stopped mid-phrase, turning abruptly to look at her. Rayde glanced briefly back to the fight, no change.

"Do you think he can get out of this, Bayne?" she asked.

"Could you?" he responded. She nodded. "Then so will he, eventually."

She smiled. "Right, thank you. Well…what about Faer?"

"Um, what about her?"

"Are you nervous to see her fight, or excited? Do you think she'll win?"

"…win, I would hope so. She'll probably do better than I did, if she's not unlucky."

"Wait, you lost?"

"Yeah, it—"

Gin broke in with a laugh. "It was close. But one good hit, in the right places, is better than a thousand elsewhere."

Bayne nodded, holding his head low. Rayde glanced between the two, and smiled.

"Bayne, if I face him before he loses, he will not walk away from it."

Gin lifted an eye-ridge at her. "I've seen you fight, short as it was. You haven't." Rayde blinked. "I know how you fight now," he said, "That puts me in a good position."

"Have you ever killed someone, Gin?"

"I- you are strange."

[][][]

Raymond's breath came in spurts, even as he tried to regulate it. He needed to wring all he could out of this brief respite. Surveying his position, he felt he was too close the arena's wall. Ten, fifteen feet could easily be lost, pinning him back, if Maul were to advance now. For the moment, however, Maul was also resting and in better shape.

Not for long.

He set down his left leg, groaning immediately. Maul had torn deep into the tissue, and severed at least one muscle. (Or so it felt to Raymond.) Looking at it, the wounds seemed insignificant. However, there were so many small puncture wounds in proximity that, with each movement, Raymond may as well have been swimming in his own blood. Perhaps he was.

Lightly, he rolled his shoulder until it stretched. Glaring hard, he charged toward Mauls left. As he'd hoped, Maul hesitated for a moment before turning to intercept him. Raymond halted, and swung his tail. Maul ducked.

In seconds, Raymond found himself tumbling back, two strong paws planted firmly at the base of his tail. Maul threw himself atop Raymond, grinning down at him. Raymond threw up his claws to dig all four sets into the joints beneath Maul's limbs before he could be pinned down.

He yelled as Raymond made contact, and loosed an abnormally thin sheet of earth energy toward his face. Had Maul taken aim again, or not paused to start with, he may have struck Raymond's eyes. Because of his premature action, he instead carved a two-centimeter deep ridge across his top lip. Maul pulled his head back to try again.

[][][]

In the row directly behind the announcer's platform, where Spyro sat, Cynder was. She shuddered excitedly as she watched Raymond.

[][][]

This time, Raymond knew what was to come. He released electricity into and through his claws, putting it directly into Maul's body.

Maul froze, paralyzed, and Raymond pushed out even more. Maul fell numb, teetering to the left and right until Raymond allowed him to fall. He breathed a sigh of relief as he rolled away from Maul.

[][][]

"Yeah!" Bayne yelled…again, "Go Raymond!"

Rayde rolled her eyes. Didn't Bayne understand how little it meant, his constant screaming? And why should it? Raymond would either win or lose, and Bayne couldn't make a difference in the outcome. Then again, perhaps offering support now that he had won wouldn't be so bad. It would be good to acknowledge it, as his mate.

"C-"

[][][]

Raymond gasped for air as Maul's tail found its mark. From his vantage point on the ground, Maul had found the well-hidden, disc-shaped scar low on Raymond's right flank. His legs buckled, and Raymond hit the ground chin-first. Blood leaked from his mouth, and began spraying out in spurts.

[][][]

Bayne cowered against the bench, compressed to the smallest he could get. Comparatively, Rayde towered high between himself and Gin, who had also taken the hint and shrunk back into his seat. Rayde had abandoned all semblance of composure. In wake of her screams, nearly the whole crowd had fallen silent.

"Don't you fucking lose over that, Ray! Over that thing, my mistake? Hell no! If you do I'll beat your ass, too! This is nothing; you're not even hurt yet!"

Rayde was gone far beyond seething. Bayne felt a desire to soothe her, but how could he? Raymond was in no good standing by this point. He couldn't lie to reassure her when it was this far along. Raymond was done. It would be lying to say otherwise. She—

"Yes! Yes!"

[][][]

Raymond struggled to his feet, hardly able to move. He licked the blood from his lips, and turned slowly away from Maul as Spyro came closer. In his last ditch effort, he had expended all of his energy, elemental and otherwise, to leave Maul a twitching, writhing body upon the ground.

"Well done, Ray. Congratulations." Spyro turned away from him. "Raymond is the victor!"


End file.
